


Petal to the Metal

by MenagerieOfDarkness



Series: Dean's Adventures in Heaven [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Dean Winchester, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time Having Sex, Coming Out, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Heaven, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other, Post-Canon Fix-It, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romantic Fluff, Shameless Smut, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, super-hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28510659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MenagerieOfDarkness/pseuds/MenagerieOfDarkness
Summary: After 40 years in super-hell, Castiel finally has an opportunity to escape and find Dean. What will be waiting for him in heaven, and how will he respond when he finds Dean with another?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Impala/Dean Winchester
Series: Dean's Adventures in Heaven [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064291
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	Petal to the Metal

From the depths of super-hell, Castiel shifted amongst the black goo that seemed to envelop the entire realm. He had been trapped there ever since he confessed his man-love to Dean, the great hunk of man and flannel who had been gracious enough to allow the angel to accompany him on his many hunts. While he couldn’t say that he regretted letting those words leave his mouth — although he would have preferred Dean to show more emotion than an Easter Island head overdosing on Valium — those fated words proved too much for the Eldritch god Eric Kripke whose eternal laws of heteronormativity cast Castiel into the moistened pit of super-hell. As Kripke’s 11th commandment stated: Thou shalt not be gay in a CW show unless it’s relevant and profitable.

During his 40 years in super-hell, Castiel found the place to be much less torturous than it was torturously boring. Sure, the sticky walls and floor of the realm were the optimal place for him to yearn for Dean, to stare into the surface and imagine that he was gazing out the window of a moving car with My Chemical Romance blasting on the radio. But, soon, Castiel had run out of tears to cry and MCR songs to play in his head, and he realized that there was truly nothing to do in super-hell. For decades he laid on the gelatinous floor and thought of nothing but Dean: his soft, moisturized lips, the gentle crease of his eyes, his large, juicy ass. There was so much of him he wanted to learn about, get to know with his hands and tongue and other human organs he had yet to get much mileage out of during his brief time on earth.

But, on one such day of lazing around in his khaki pants and jacket, Castiel heard something from beyond the walls of super-hell. It was soft and muffled, so much so that he had to press his ear to the gooey, black surface to make out what it was. Moaning, deep, and wanting. That voice, Dean’s. If Castiel listened harder, forcing those sound waves to penetrate his ear hole, there was a second sound, a car engine revving in time with Dean’s moans, Carry On My Wayward Son harmonizing with them. Castiel couldn’t believe it. Dean and the Impala were in the midst of erratic, passionate intercourse. Had Castiel been into that, he was sure his human host body would be rock solid at the sound of Dean being filled with tons of aged metal. But, the only thing surging through his cock was pure rage and jealousy, like he was a 13-year-old girl who realized that people shipped Harry Style with Louis Tomlinson and not with her. Sure, he and Dean were only in a partial relationship for less than 10 seconds, but it still stabbed his heart to hear the man receiving pleasure from another, much less a car. Still, Castiel soon grew used to those sounds, and they became something akin to white noise. Always in the distance, but easily ignorable if he tried.

It was 20 years later when Sam died and went to Dean’s personal heaven, that Castiel realized he couldn’t just remain the passive bystander anymore. He could hardly believe it when he heard Sam join the mix: something on top, other times sandwiched between Dean and Impala, the spam to their wonderbread. It enraged him to no end, and he found himself clawing at the jelly-like casing around super-hell, ripping through the walls like it was nothing. It took time — days, weeks, he wasn’t sure — but Castiel soon saw a spot of light trickling in through the darkness, harsh and piercing after decades in the shadows. Eventually, it grew large enough for him to climb through, and so he did, army crawling through what felt like miles of ooze and shadows until he reached that light and felt the warmth of heaven — Dean’s heaven — on his disheveled, middle-aged face.

As he suspected, Dean’s heaven was completely bare besides a few farmhouses and miles of dirt roads. While Castiel was in heaven-major, he had grown accustomed to the typical layout of a person’s personal heaven: bright lights and endless bars and clubs and libraries and arcades and parks and everything memorable and sentimental and entertaining enough to last the person an eternity. But, given Dean’s horrific planning abilities and cognitive processes, Castiel wasn’t surprised that he didn’t come up with anything like that. No wonder he had to resort to fucking his car, Castiel thought to himself. Still, it was this simple Dean, the Dean who didn’t need much to sustain himself other than a cold beer and a car to drive, that drove him wild.

As Castiel wandered closer to the largest farmhouse, he was suddenly confronted yet again by Dean’s moans and the ethereal sounds of Kansas blasting on a car radio. All of a sudden, the angel felt another rush of fury burst through his nethers. Sure, Sam wasn’t there, but Castiel knew nothing could break the bond between two brothers, no matter how immoral and potentially illegal it was. A car, however, that could be dismantled, ripped to shreds with his muscular, swole hands. Even though deep down, he knew how much the Impala meant to Dean even before the relationship turned sexual, Castiel didn’t care. He just kept walking toward the source of the sounds. But, even with his nerves steeled, nothing could prepare him for what he was about to witness.

“Oh, Baby.” Dean moaned from underneath the Impala. Even though he was facing Castiel, his eyes were squeezed shut as his body was mercilessly pounded by the car. Castiel couldn’t believe that Dean, the alpha that he was, would be such a sub or that he would be performing such lewd activities in such a public location. While at first, the angel found himself growing hot and bothered watching the love of his immortal life take it up the ass, he realized he had to stop it. In more ways than one, it was becoming too hard to bear.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel stepped in front of Dean, legs spread apart like Patrick Star wearing fishnet stockings and stilettos. He perched himself deliberately so that Dean would be forced to momentarily take in the front seat of his khakis and all that could be lurking within it. Even still, it took several moments too many for Dean to notice. 

“Cas? Holy shit! Is that you?” Dean dismounted the Impala’s tailpipe, much to the car’s obvious displeasure. The radio crackled a bit before the Impala regained its composure and went silent.

“How did you get out of super-hell?” The flannel-clad man rushed to his feet and pulled his filthy jeans up. Even after 40 years in heaven, Dean looked just as he did when Castiel confessed to him — the same stupid, expressionless face and everything. 

“I crawled out to see you. I just couldn’t believe you were engaging in such disgusting relationships.”

“What?” Dean looked genuinely confused. “We say ‘No homo’ after sex. That makes it fine.”

“Look, Dean. That’s not the problem. The problem is that you’re getting railed by a sentient car.” The Impala seemed to shrug at that, agreeing with Castiel’s statement.

“Well, it’s not like you were here with me. What else was I supposed to do?” Dean’s manly face contorted itself like he was trying to suppress a single tear from coming from his small eyes. 

“I’m here now, Dean.” Castiel stepped closer to him; all anger suddenly vanishing. He saw the sadness in that one tear, a lifetime of loneliness and yearning in heaven. Sure, Dean had numerous sexual partners by his side, but they both were alone. They always had been until this moment.

As if being pulled by the invisible string of fate, Castiel leaned into Dean, his large, supple lips engulfing Dean’s. Had it not been for Eric Kripke, this kiss would not have been 40 years too late. Castiel would have done it the moment he told Dean he loved him, tattooed the words onto the roof of his mouth with his angelic tongue. But, he could do it now, and so he did. Dean responded in turn, tracing “Yo a ti, Cas” onto the angel’s inner lip.

“I’ve been waiting 40 years for this moment.” Castiel started to remove his many layers of khakis, and Dean followed up with his own clothing. It was like a tennis match of stripping, each responding only when the other pulled off another layer. Soon, they were both as bare and naked and freshly laid chicken eggs. Even as Dean’s sweaty, softened pecs glistened in the sunlight, Castiel couldn’t peel his eyes from the man’s. As an angel, he felt no attraction to human bodies themselves, but the connection two bodies could feel, the sensation of being connected. 

“Wait a second. Don’t think you can just exclude me!” The Impala’s headlights flashed on, staring Castiel down. Its engine rumbled, revving up like it was trying to assert dominance. But, unbeknownst to the car, Castiel was more than just a naked man standing on a pile of male secretary clothing. No, he had powers beyond his heavenly cock that Dean could hardly take his eyes off of.

“Begone, heathen.” Castiel flexed his hand, and the Impala exploded, bits of metals fluttering away in the breeze like a swarm of black butterflies. Dean stared in shock as his Baby was ripped to shreds with only the faint sound of ‘Carry On My Wayward Son’ left in the air to remember it by.

“You killed my car.”

“Yeah, I did. What are you gonna do about it?” Castiel whispered into Dean’s ear, sending shivers down the man’s spine. Sure, his lifelong friend and romantic partner had just been eviscerated, but why didn’t he feel angry? Why was any rage he should have felt swallowed up by something else?

“That’s so fucking hot.” Dean gripped Castiel’s wang with all of the might and tenderness of a dad building a new deck for his nuclear family. The angel gasped as a sensation he had never felt before engulfed his penis. In all of his years in a human body, Castiel never felt the urge to touch any part of himself. He viewed his cock as one would a pinky toe: there, interesting to look at on occasion, but nothing worth jerking off. But, with Dean’s rough, calloused hands sliding up and down his shaft like a fireman on a pole, Castiel wondered why he hadn’t tried this sooner.

“Ya like this, Cas?” Castiel nodded, leaning against Dean’s shoulder. From his angle, he couldn’t see Dean’s rapidly inflating dick, but he could see his pale, dimpled ass protruding from his hips. While Castiel had taken a peek at those cheeks on earth — whenever Dean bent over to pick something up or leaned over something — never had they seemed so delectable, like a rich vanilla mousse.

“I do. Do you enjoy this?” Castiel reached around and dug his fingers into Dean’s rump. It was firm yet gelatinous like a delicious panna cotta, and Castiel was ready to dig in.

“Hell yeah, I do.” Dean moaned out.

The two stood there for a bit longer, feeling each other’s most sensitive areas before Castiel couldn’t take it any longer. This might be more difficult to say than his initial love confession to Dean, but it was just as, if not more, necessary.

“Dean,” The angel released Dean’s cheeks. “I want to copulate with you?”

“Copulate? What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean slowed his strokes, confusing marring his features.

“Well, you know.” Castiel felt his face blush a brilliant scarlet. “...sex.” He just barely whispered it out as if he would’ve been smitten on the spot if he said it too loud.

Dean smiled at that, sly and thin like a mischievous soda cracker. He turned around and dropped to his hands and knees, a position he had long become comfortable with. While he winced as his hands were pierced by bits of the Impala that had not blown away in the breeze, he stayed steadfast, motioning for Castiel to join him. The angel quickly shuffled on top of him, and, much like an Olympic weightlifter, he started to lunge forward, going for that gold medal deep within Dean’s ass. 

Castiel groaned as his holy cock slipped into Dean, his walls still slick from his previous sexual escapades with the Impala. He could hardly believe what was happening: he and the man he loved were becoming one in body, in spirit. It was so beautiful it almost brought a tear to Castiel’s eye, but he sucked it back in, not wanting to waste his energy on anything other than Dean. But that didn’t stop a choked sob from escaping his lips.

“You doing alright back there?” Dean’s voice was punctuated by Castiel’s gentle thrusts. He could tell that the angel was going easy on him, not wanting to break him like he did the Impala. Although Dean had grown to love the feeling of his body being ripped in two, wedged apart by a metallic car cock, he had to admit that the passion, the emotion Castiel put into every small movement, made up for it.

“I’m fine, Dean. I just...” Right as Castiel was about to finish his sentence, the wide, open Kansas skies darkened, heavy storm clouds rushing in. Castiel stopped pounding Dean’s hole, staring at the roaring abyss that was overtaking the horizon. But, the thunder slowly transformed into a voice, deep and booming.

“Who dares have gay sex in my television show?” Eric Kripke, the Eldritch god himself, emerged from the clouds. Like a bald weasel, a face stretched across the sky, scowling at the two men below him. 

At first, Castiel was too scared to speak, to move. His cock was firmly rooted in Dean, and, much like a might oak tree, it would take a lot of heavy lifting to get him out. But, staring at Eric Kripke’s oversized, all-powerful face, he felt a sudden wave of courage rush through him, penis and all. He unsheathed himself like Excalibur and took a few steps back to get a better look at Kripke and Dean’s ass.

“I dare. After 11 seasons under your reign, I have nothing more to fear. I love this man,” He gestures to Dean’s still kneeling body, “Is that such a crime?”

“You fool!” The clouds grew thicker, the wind more violent. Castiel could see a ball of lightning growing right under Kripke’s chin, ready to strike at any moment.

“I’ll just have to stop you myself.” Right as the Eldritch god spoke, Castiel flew upwards on his shadowy wings, his erect piece of driftwood wobbling in the breeze. Soon, he could almost feel Kripke’s dry skin against his bare, sweaty body. 

“I said, I have nothing more to fear!” Castiel shouted at the giant face. “Even you!”

With that, the angel cock-slapped Eric Kripke with his holy sword. The Eldritch god let out a pained roar before dissolving, the pure gay love in his dick too much for the face to bear. The skies soon cleared as Kripke turned to flower petals, blues and pinks and purples raining down upon the land, enveloping Dean below. Then, all was quiet, the horizon growing bright and open as it was before. It was done.

Castiel floated back down, brushing the petals from Dean’s back. The man gave him a silent nod, an indescribable expression on his face. Happiness? Joy? Castiel couldn’t tell, but he knew what Dean wanted him to do. He slammed into Dean’s rotund cheeks with renewed vigor, suddenly feeling much lighter, like he and Dean could float away, go anywhere they wanted to go.

“I can’t believe you killed a god for me, Cas.” Dean gasped, suddenly realizing the magnitude of what Castiel had done.

“Not for me, Dean. For us. For all, we could be right here. Right now.” Castiel leaned over to plant a soft kiss on Dean’s cheek. Suddenly invigorated by the gentle gesture, Dean further melted against Castiel, allowing the angel to hold him in his arms as his arms and legs sagged against the dirt road.

“If that’s the case, shouldn’t we be somewhere more romantic?” Castiel’s head shot up. Of course, the two of them were still rutting around in the clay, no better than the average well-endowed car.

“Sorry, Dean. Let me fix that.” Castiel snapped his fingers, and the two teleported into Dean’s farmhouse. Specifically, his king-sized bed in his farmhouse. The mattress squeaked as it had to hold the weight of twice the number of people as normal. Whether Dean wanted his ass plugged, he took it to the dusty roads outside of his house. Whether it was for convenience or not wanting his bed to witness the filthy, primal, ball-slapping sex he normally engaged in, Dean kept his virgin mattress out of his business. But, maybe now was the time to pop its cherry and show the bed what Dean was working with.

“Come here, Cas.” Dean slid himself onto Castiel‘s stupendous cock like he was plugging in a USB cord, unloading all sorts of filthy photos and videos onto his laptop and surely giving it so many viruses. Dean felt himself begin to sink into the plush mattress. Unlike the hard, dirt roads, the mattress could hardly sustain the force of Castiel’s godly penetration. But, there was still a softness to it, not that Castiel was afraid of going all out, but that he wanted to savor each moment. Dean, too started to relax into the movements, so much so that he hardly felt it as the angel unloaded his junk into his trunk.

Castiel watched as Dean soon came all over the bedsheets like a testosterone-filled fire hose. It was so plentiful that Dean figured he would have to wash the covers three times to get all of the stains out. But he could leave that for another time. Instead, he collapsed onto the sticky bed. Castiel laid down beside him, holding him close like the naked Lincoln log that he was. The two men just basked in each other’s presence, not even thinking about how their close was still outside and covered in the remains of Eric Kripke and the Impala.

“Oh shit, I almost forgot. No ho-.” Castiel placed a finger over Dean’s lips before he could finish.

“You don’t have to say that. Not anymore.” At the sound of those words, Dean’s eyes filled with tears, some streaking down his cheeks. It was as if a weight he never knew existed was lifted from his chest, and he could finally breathe for the first time.

Castiel felt himself begin to sob as well, both moved by Dean’s tears and amazed by the display of manliness the human was showing, for displaying one's emotions is the manliest thing a person can do. The two held each other close, relishing in each other’s warmth until their tears finally dried.


End file.
